Harry Potter: Chaos on Castle Grounds
by Sonata-Time-Flare-Nocturne-Aoi
Summary: Story complete! When the unexplained and unexpected happens at Hogwarts, three individuals: Severus Snape, Miverva McGonagall, and Cornelius Fudge are left to deal with the impending chaos. Things couldn't get any more ridiculous, could it? Rated T.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**Story**: Harry Potter: Chaos on Castle Grounds  
**Author**: Master Jin Sonata  
**Written**: August 19, 2019  
**Genre**: Humor & Tragedy  
**Rating**: T  
**Disclaimer**: We do not own the series, but we do own the various things that are about to happen in this fic!

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Beginning**

Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic still, wiped sweat from his crimson face with a handkerchief and stared through the bars to the two ragged figures behind it. From a distance, muffled noise penetrated the unfamiliary hot July air. A blast tore the sounds, Fudges gaze trailed to the sky, where a firework dragon spread his wings and swooshed over the grounds of Hogwarts. Fudge blinked, squinting his eyes and stared at McGonagall and Snape, who had not moved.

The sight of the two was unusual: McGonagall's usually so accurate appearance had suffered considerably. Strands hung from her bun, the glasses sat askew on her nose and blue spots shone on her cloak. Snape was no better: His hair was so greasy that the gunk continued onto the collar of his cloak, his face almost white. They both looked out of dark circled eyes and remained mute.

What Impudence, Fudge thought, while the fingers of his right hand played nervously with his wand and he wondered if he should have come here at all. But nowadays everything collapsed around him and he could not afford any weakness. So he straightened his back and cried:

"I demand an explanation!" Silence.

"Where are my Aurors?" he clamored. "Why have my letters not been answered? Where is Dumbledore, and why, damn it, are the gates closed? "

"Letters?" McGonagall asked flatly. "What letters?"

"The letters that I sent you of course!" Shouted Fudge.

The two exchanged glances.

"There are problems with the Owl Post," said Snape softly and tucked a fatty streak behind his ear.

"What problems?" Fudge snorted. "Let me in already!"

Again the two faced each other.

"What do you reckon, Severus?" asked McGonagall. Snape smiled thinly.

"He seems to be his usual self," he said maliciously, drew his wand from his cloak and tapped against the gate's lock. It clicked and clacked, then the gates swung up just long enough so Fudge could squeeze through before they snapped shot behind him. Fudge looked back irritated, composed himself a little and roared:

"I demand an explanation! Where's Dumbledore and what's that noise? "

"The noise," McGonagall sighed. "I think, includes your aurores." She sighed again. "It's hard to explain. Better see it for yourself. "

* * *

Fudge walked after McGonagall and Snape along the winding road, always towards the noise. Another firework exploded over their heads and Fudge shuddered with each new blast. He grabbed his wand with a sweaty hand, clutched the wet handkerchief in the other and felt more disheartened with every step. What was going on? Summer vacation was still going on, the school should be abandoned. In fact, neither McGonagall nor Snape ought to be here. And I least of them all, he thought angrily.

After all, the disappearance of a dozen Aurors could not be covered up any longer- people began to ask questions. But what should he have done? Dumbledore's request for reinforcements had been so insistent, and Fudge, shaken by the appearance of the one you did not mention by name had not asked any questions. Basically, he had not wanted to know, his position was compromised enough already. Now he regretted it of course, and he could not bear to imagine what would happen if the public learned, that he had lost more than ten Aurors.

When they reached the last bend before the castle would come into view, the two teachers stopped. McGonagall finally adjusted her glasses and brushed the hair from her face then turned to Fudge.

"You asked about the letters," she began. Fudge stared at her; the letters seemed to be the least of his problems now.

"Before you came, the aurores were our last contact. For two weeks now we have been cut off from the outside world. We cannot send messages, believe me we have tried, but the owls only fly aimlessly around the towers and come back when they are hungry. It's almost like there is nothing outside of Hogwarts, as if this area of the world has been torn out." She shuddered.

"What?" croaked Fudge. Snape gave him a contemptuous look.

"As I said: He is his usual self."

"Mind your station!" shouted Fudge, but Snape just smiled mockingly.

"Severus, this is hardly helpful," McGonagall admonished her colleague. A fly buzzed sluggishly around Fudge's face.

"Tell me what's going on already," demanded Fudge exasperated and chased the insect away with his handkerchief.

"We believe it is an invasion," said Snape.

"The Death Eaters," Fudge whispered, turning pale. The others laughed bitterly.

"Certainly not," McGonagall said dryly. "Some of them run around here, but I do not think these are the real ones."

"Certainly not," snarled Snape.

"Well, the last time we counted there were fifteen Lucius Malfoys, some of which developed a soft spot for Professor Snape."

"I do not want to talk about it," hissed Snape.

"But Lucius Malfoy is in jail," stammered Fudge.

"And of course, various Voldemorts," she continued unmoved.

"He's here?" whispered Fudge now white as a sheet and stepped back.

"Multiply so," confirmed McGonagall. "In all ages, symptoms and emotional states, but basically harmless, at least for us. _These_ Voldemorts are more interested in Harry Potter - and others " She glanced at Snape.

"Potter," Snape choked.

"Of course, he is interested in Potter," Fudge said, and backed off even further. "He wants to kill him!"

"Not necessarily. I assure you, Minister, you are nothing to these Voldemorts."

"Nothing?" yelled Fudge. "I am the minister of magic and you know who will not harm me?"

"Politics is the least thing our Voldemorts take an interest in," said Snape close to explosion. Fudge froze and looked confused from one to the other.

"I do not understand," he stammered. "You know who has nothing else in mind than world domination."

"We're wasting time," said McGonagall coldly. "Anyway, some of them are too bulky to pose a danger."

"Bulky?"

"That's how it is when you're pregnant," Snape gritted.

Fudge stared at him. That was madness! But of course, that explained it: McGonagall and Snape were crazy! Somehow, they had taken control over the school and now they staged a grotesque comedy, which, judging by the noise, involved some students as well. Fudge pulled the wand out of his cloak and aimed at the two lunatics who gazed at him in silence.

"We are not crazy," McGonagall said at last. "If you do not believe us, see for yourself!"

"I won't," said Fudge waving his wand. "You want to trap me, that's how it is!"

"Ah," sneered Snape. "So you think the two of us not only overwhelmed your aurors, but defeated Dumbledore as well?"

"I suppose Dumbledore is the head of it all," shouted Fudge. McGonagall turned red.

"Don't you dare disparage the headmaster," she cried angrily and aimed her wand at him.

"But this makes sense! The burden of the past year was too much for him!"

Fudge was very enthusiastic about this solution - until he remembered that the man whose name was nether mentioned, except by lunatics like the two before him, had returned.

"Sure," snarled Snape. „He sees things through for an entire year although the Ministry made his life hell, duels with the Dark Lord and when holidays come, when everything is settled and proven that he was right, he goes nuts."

"Such things happen," pleaded Fudge.

McGonagall breathed heavily and lowered her wand.

"No, Sir," she said wearily, "unfortunately it is not that simple. You see, Voldemort is not the only one we have here several times, "Her arms hung limply beside her body

"You're not saying…Dumbledore, too?" Fudge whispered horrified.

"Among others," she answered barely audible. "We'll show you."

She turned around and disappeared behind the bend, followed by Snape, who gave Fudge another contemptuous look.

Fudge felt as if he had lost every bone in his body. What was going on here? He shuddered. Well, it didn't matter now, whether Death Eaters, deception or anything - he must get out of here.

"Excuse me," someone said behind him.

Fudge spun around and investigated the bewildered face of a young man with black hair, who seemed somewhat familiar to Fudge. The stranger looked at Fudge, then at the wand pointed at him and repeated uncertainly:

"Excuse me, can you tell me what I'm doing here?"

"I beg your pardon?" Fudge asked stupidly.

"This is Hogwarts, is it not?" continued the man, hesitating. Fudge nodded.

"But how did I come here?" muttered the stranger. "You know, I think I was dead, but now I'm here. How is that possible?"

"Who are you?" Fudge asked suspiciously.

"How rude of me. My name is Regulus Black, I used to be a student here."

"Regulus Black?" repeated Fudge. "But you're a Death Eater!" He raised his wand and aimed between Black's eyes.

"Not anymore!" Black said indignantly. "The Dark Lord has treated my house elf very badly, that's why I am no longer a Death Eater, you see?"

"No, I do not see," snorted Fudge. All nuts here. Black eyed Fudge up intensely as if doubting his sanity.

"Hm," he said finally, "then I will look for someone who can help me. This way to the castle, right?" And without waiting for an answer, he walked around Fudge in a huge curve and disappeared around the bend.

Fudge stared after him. _That_ claimed to be Regulus Black? But this man was no older than twenty. This could not be! What's going on, Fudge thought desperately. If this really was an invasion, and the Death Eaters had nothing to do with it, and the public learned that he had known about it and had done nothing - he could already see the headlines:

"Minister for Magic fails again!"

"How long must we tolerate that?"

"Children of no importance to the ministry!"

Fudge gasped; he could not afford this. For a moment he tottered on the place, then helplessness and anger overpowered him and he rushed, his wand at the ready, after Regulus Black or whoever he might be.

* * *

Even from a distance Fudge saw, that nothing was well in Hogwarts: The castle seemed strangely out of proportion. One of the towers glowed brightly purple, two others had moved themselves several meters away. From one of the rear parts thick reddish smoke rose, and over the entire side facing Fudge someone had written "Weasley Rules" - in glaring pink paint.

The sky was full of owls and students in colorful robes on broomsticks, of which one or the other hit by fireworks crashed and raced to the ground. Beings with black, white or gray wings circled cackling and croaking over the roofs of the castle and mad giggling girls seemed to be involved in a Quidditch game with majorly changed rules.

The large field under the heavenly hubbub reminded Fudge of quidditch as well, because it was just as crowded as the camp at the World Cup: Students were running hither and thither, in between adults rushed across the lawn, among which Fudge not only saw the already announced Death Eaters, but several members of the Order of the Phoenix. Three Lupins chased squealing girls, another half wolf, half man writhed around on the ground with a strange orange colored Harry Potter meanwhile an avid Sirius Black stood next to them and applauded enthusiastically.

Two other Siriuses chased a squealing Ron Weasley in the direction of the forbidden forest, followed by a wand swinging Hermione Granger, who was in turn followed by an unknown boy with green hair. A whole group of young Tom Riddles sat down by the lake and discussed angrily with each other; Ginny Weasley tried desperately to escape them but did not succeed because they had shackled her to a book.

Fudge's gaze trailed over the mess and stopped at Hagrid's hut where no less than three Hagrids tried to get out of the door simultaneously, charred by a fire ball from inside the hut. In the front garden of the cottage two Neville Longbottoms knocked each other out with unsuccessful spells and a clearly unmotivated Luna Lovegood stood by and observed enraptured a strange animal, whose form shifted between lion, seal and lizard.

A cry tinged from the Forbidden Forest and out rushed Harry Potter and a scary looking man, brandishing the famous Gryffindor sword. The fugitives knocked over motionless students and fired one curse after another against a winged Voldemort, who howled heart-meltingly.

"Lucius," groaned Wingy-Voldemort. "Lucius, he just won't believe that we're his fathers!"

One of the Luciusses who just attempted to climb a couple more or less willing Pansy Parkinsons, disbanded the scene and came to aid the applicant Voldemort.

"This is all a misunderstanding," he yelped. "Harry Raymondo Veritas, it is true, please believe us!"

"What do you think of it?" Fudge whispered to Regulus Black, who suddenly struck him as being reasonable. But he didn't get an answer. The young man's eyes brightened, a smile spread across his face and he took a step forward.

"She is so beautiful," he whispered, before galloping across the lawn where a red-haired girl awaited him smiling.

"Malfoy!" McGonagall's voice rang over the general ruckus. "Take your hands-off Potter at once! And you, Zabini, stop helping him!"

Fudge turned and stared in bewilderment at a tangle of half-naked bodies, which rolled down the embankment onto him.

"Only in the rooms," shouted McGonagall. "Only in the rooms, how many times do I have to repeat that?"

The clew unraveled into three naked boys who took to their heels before the onrushing professor reached them.

"Severus, come and help me!" McGonagall exclaimed breathlessly. But Snape was completely occupied to keep a horde of crazy Potters, Malfoys, Senior and Junior, Voldemort, Hermione Grangers and some unknown girl at a distance.

His situation was hopeless: Whenever he cursed one of the devotees to the ground, another one took the spot and pestered Snape even more.

"Severus," McGonagall's voice now sounded panicked. "Your hair!"

Snape put his hand into the suddenly wondrous silky curls and searched his cloak frantically, until he found a bottle and drank hastily from it. This brief interruption was all the devotees needed: A Voldemort, Hermione Granger and a couple of Potters charged forward and buried Snape under themselves. McGonagall shot blindly into the crowd and finally pulled out a deranged, half-unconscious Snape from the heap.

"Fudge!" She screamed. "Do something!"

Fudge swallowed hard, then he ran and covered McGonagall's retreat, who dragged Snape with her until they had fought their way through the crowd into the castle and finally leaned against the walls of the hall. The massive door closed behind them and shut out the noise from the grounds.

* * *

**Please review and keep watch for new chapters as this fic is updated constantly!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Middle

**Chapter 2: The Middle**

Snape fell to his knees trembling, Fudge gasped for breath and tried in vain to get what he just had witnessed out of his head. McGonagall stood beside him with dissolving bun and cracked glasses and groaned:

"There are always more."

It rattled at ground level.

"You're okay, Severus?" she asked worried and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Yes," he spat and wiped her hand away. McGonagall tapped her wand against the damaged glass of her spectacles, muttering "Reparo" and then hastily draped back her hair in the remains of her bun.

"Where is your bottle?" she asked Snape, a hairpin between the lips. Snape groaned.

"It's still on the lawn."

"But you do have the magic potion in stock, don't you?" Snape nodded and sat up slowly.

"Yes, in my office. Well then let's try to find it."

"Beg your pardon?" said Fudge, who had finally found his tongue again.

"You see what's happened to the castle, don't you?" Snape gritted his hand and described a wide arc, as if to include the entrance hall in his gesture. Fudge's eyes followed the movement. The hall was in a pathetic state: streaks of mud and earth covered the floor, posters and papers with scribbling of all sorts on them hung on the walls and the colored stones in the house point hourglasses whirled around like caught in a tornado, mostly so in the glasses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. That reminded Fudge.

"What are all these students doing here?" he thundered at the sight of the points obviously going mad. Snape and McGonagall looked at him incredulously.

"I mean," his voice thinned. "It's summer vacation," he ended lamely.

"These are not our students," Snape squeezed out, "there are far to many Potters strolling around."

"In addition: if they were ours, their families would have stormed the ministry long ago," added McGonagall.

"But the Death Eaters," Fudge tried again. He had to get to the bottom of this.

Snape stepped so close to him that he could feel the teachers breath on his face.

"Do you think the Dark Lord would acquiesce to such doppelgangers?" he whispered icily. Fudge shook his head. Snape closed his eyes.

"Come on. If we're lucky, my office is still where it should be. "

They descended to the dungeons. While being oppressively hot outside, the temperatures down here were arctic, and even the flames of the torches had solidified. As wet with sweat as he was, Fudge was shaking miserably, and if the hubbub on the lawn had not been so scary, he would have crept back as fast as possible.

"The castle is changing it's appearance from minute to minute," he heard Snape and his echos say. "Passageways lead nowhere, stairs turn over, as soon as you step onto them - everything is different. I couldn't find the Slytherin's common room for the last four days, let alone my bedroom."

McGonagall nodded.

"It's the same for me. I can only enter Gryffindor Tower when the fat lady is dead drunk – she trusts no one. We are lucky she can't hold her liquor."

"As if anyone would want to see what's going on up there," growled Snape.

"Nevertheless, they are children," chided McGonagall, which Snape acknowledge with a joyless laugh.

"What's going on?" Rattled Fudge for the umpteenth time, his cloak wrapped tightly around his body.

"It's an invasion, as I said," hissed Snape. "The first creature that emerged here, looked like Potter. We were about to leave the castle for the summer, as he appeared in the middle of the lawn. Of course we thought something had happened, and took it to Professor Dumbledore - a mistake, as it turned out: As soon as this Potter saw the headmaster, he dueled him already. The professor struggled to beat him, the Potter was very strong."

"But Harry Potter is just a student! And why…," but McGonagall cut Fudge off.

"It was not the real Harry Potter. When we finally overwhelmed him, we gave him Veritaserum and he told a confused, incoherent story: That Dumbledore had betrayed him and had stolen all his money, and that he knew this because Salazar Slytherin had finally given him a reality check. And then he bawled for Draco Malfoy and the Sorting Hat joined in - I have never heard such bad poetry. The rest consisted of grotesque two-voiced vows of love and we were very concerned." At the mentioning of the Sorting Hat Fudge remembered something.

"Gryffindor," he said. "I've seen Godric Gryffindor!"

"Congratulations," complimented Snape coolly. "He and the other founders run around here by the dozen."

"But they died a thousand years ago," said Fudge outraged.

"You do not say! That's complete news to us!"

"Sir," McGonagall interrupted. "None of these beings is genuine, don't you understand? Some of them are way too strong, others simply monstrous and others… "she shuddered.

"Ah," Snape shouted triumphantly and ran past them towards a heavy wooden door, opened it and rushed inside. Fudge followed him, but froze in the doorway: So that was Snape's office - he had imagined it differently.

On the sparse furniture stood glasses filled with pickled snakes, reptiles and other slimy creatures, which did suit Snape's sunny disposition well, but not so much the mountains of pink letters. From some of the envelopes hearts ascended, shattered with a "Hihi" and gave off a sickening sweet smell. About a hundred photos stood in frames on the desk or were hanging on the walls. Some showed a drifting Harry Potter, Malfoy, Voldemort, Hermione Granger, and other familiar faces and pitched into a squeaking chorus at orchestral volume, as Snape hasted along them and hurriedly fumbled for a pair of earmuffs.

Other photos showed frozen grinning girls and boys - Muggles. Fudge covered his ears until McGonagall clapped some earmuffs on them and he breathed a sigh of gratitude. Through the curbed cracking of hearts and collective whimper, Fudge watched as Snape hurriedly filled a bottle from a cauldron, and then retired to the corridor, the teachers at his heels. Fudge brushed the earmuffs off.

"I told you that Professor Snape enjoys growing popularity," McGonagall said. Snape leaned against the closed door and glared at her angrily.

"How come there are pictures of Muggles in your office," asked Fudge astonished. McGonagall and Snape exchanged a glance.

"We believe these are the initiators of the invasion," McGonagall said slowly. "Severus, would you? And don't forget the recipe." Snape choked, put the earmuffs back on and disappeared into his office. It took a while before he showed up again, pursued by a single heart, that burst with superb echo in the hallway.

"Hihihihihi," it echoed off the walls. Snape rolled his eyes and pushed a pile of papers onto Fudge.

"Read!"

Fudge stared blankly at the page, read the first section, shook his head and worked his way through several more confused beginnings until he looked up in surprise.

"Wait." McGonagall rummaged through the papers and pulled out a specific one.

"Read that."

After just a few sentences Fudge's eyes narrowed.

"Snape," he squeezed out. "You are a teacher, how could you?"

"I've never done that," shouted Snape and ripped the pile from Fudge's hand.

"None of that have I ever done! Also, I am neither an Ice Phoenix nor a Vampire and certainly no gospel angel!" He threw the pages on the floor and trampled on them.

"Severus, please control himself," gasped McGonagall. "It does not help." Fudge observed Snape still leerily.

"Sir, I can assure you: Professor Snape's behaviour in this regard has always been exemplary."

"In this regard," snapped Snape.

"Please, Severus." McGonagall looked visibly tired.

"If that is so, what does this" indicated, Fudge pointed at the pages on the floor, "mean then?" McGonagall adjusted her glasses.

"These seem to be stories that Muggles have thought up."

"Muggles? But these things out there are certainly no Muggles! "

"Surely not. We believe them to be the characters from these stories. And since not all of them fancy Professor Snape, we suspect that these stories here are just a small part of a vast lot."

"But the Muggles know nothing of us," said Fudge getting more horrified by the second. When it became known in the ministry, that Muggles had stormed Hogwarts, and even Dumbledore was not able to stop them - no, Fudge did not want to imagine.

"It seems they do." Now McGonagall's voice sounded harsh. "Sir, we need your help. You see how it is. We still have allies, but they are just too few. You must inform the Department and find out what's going on. Please, even the headmaster didn't know what to do"

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge shouted out unnerved. Snape interrupted his trampling.

"In his office," he replied; McGonagall sobbed involuntarily.

"He has lured all evil Dumbledores into his office, and then following his instructions we sealed the office behind him. That was two days ago. We do not know whether he is alive or... "

"Evil Dumbledores," muttered Fudge.

"Yes, evil," McGonagall snapped. "They look like Dumbledore, aside from a black goatee stuck onto the white beard. There were others as well, but they just talked nonsense or binged on sweets."

"One was obviously on drugs," Snape added. Fudge rubbed his temples.

"Well," he said slowly. "If the You-Know-Who's are not dangerous, and Dumbledore is in his office, then where the hell are my Aurors?" McGonagall exhaled deeply.

"Follow us."

* * *

From the dungeons they would go up to the astronomy tower, at least that's what Fudge had understood. But what sounded simple enough, proved to be quite complicated: several times they found themselves in dead-ends, broke through stages where they really should not and eventually had to make a detour because the entire west wing was gone. They waded through garbage, mud and useless objects of undefinite shape, passed along walls plastered with obscene drawings of various Hogwarts students and dodged stray fireworks. If Fudge had thought in the castle he'd be safe from strange creatures, he was proven wrong:

Lovers, wannabe lovers and bitter enemies, who were anxious to have fun with each other nonetheless swarmed along the corridors in various stages of disrobement. McGonagall shooed no less than five Potter-Malfoy-ravels out of niches, and Snape confiscated several instruments of torture, which bestowed them with an entourage of whimpering and wailing Voldemorts, followed by a pack of grumbling strange girls. Snape's narrow eyes spoke volumes, and Fudge harbored the suspicion that the teacher had his own plans with his prey. After all the things Fudge had seen on the lawn and in Snape's office, he could not blame him.

On the third floor they met a group of Snape lovers they only got rid of because three Snape-Beaus appeared just at the right moment and distracted their pursuers. McGonagall had to drag Fudge with her, because he was so fascinated by the more than willing to mate, broad-shouldered, curly silky haired copies.

"Not a word," hissed the gaunt, greasy Snape in front of him and clashed the seized chain.

"Professor McGonagall," sounded a voice from the right and Mrs. Pomfrey rushed toward them.

"Have you seen my Lucifer's support group?" McGonagall sighed.

"Have they gotten away again?"

"I was only a minute in the bathroom," vindicated Mrs. Pomfrey dignified. "Moreover, Professor Trelawney was with them. You know how much the Lucifers adore her prophecies."

"And you know you mustn't leave Sibyll alone with them. However, have you checked Sibylle's classroom? Presumably, she lets the Lucifers gaze into the crystal balls."

"Oh, I have not even thought of that," said Mrs. Pomfrey.

Snape's prey fell clattering to the ground, and he looked Mrs. Pomfrey inquisitorialy in the face.

"When did you drink the potion lastly?" He asked.

"But I don't need that," she protested.

"Still, go to my office first and take a hearty swig, just in case". Mrs. Pomfrey nodded devotionally, threw Snape a languid glance and strolled in the direction of the dungeons.

"I wonder," Snape began but was interrupted by another call.

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, have you seen my Lucifer support group?" A second Mrs. Pomfrey appeared before them and without further ado was sent after the first one to Snape's office.

"Another one lost," sighed McGonagall. Then she hesitated.

"Severus, did she tell you how these, uh, male mothers deliver their children?"

"No," Snape squeezed out.

"But we have two Luciusses and a Snape who ..."

"And that concerns me how?" yelled Snape and stomped on. Fudge wanted to say something, but McGonagall shook her head and followed Snape.

"So there is more than one Mrs. Pomfrey," stated Fudge the obvious.

"It seems so," said McGonagall. "And we thought she was immune."

"And you, Professor?" asked Fudge. She shook her head.

"So far I am the only one."

"So you don't need the magic potion?"

"We drink it all," she replied, "that means: For Poppy it may be too late, but I also take a sip in the morning and evening preventively" She glanced to Snape's obviously tense back.

"It's different for Professor Snape," she whispered. "Since the first fake Snape has surfaced he must increase his dosage from day to day. I fear if we do not soon find a solution, we will lose him - like Poppy and the others." Fudge spotted her clasping her hands together to stop them from shivering.

"How many are still immune?" Fudge asked anxiously.

"I am the last," McGonagall replied softly.

"But you spoke of allies."

"Yes." She hesitated. "You see, not all of these creatures are as grotesque as those you have seen. Three Hermione Grangers and some Potters, Weasleys and members of the Order of the Phoenix are useful. Even a Lucius Malfoy has joined us - probably because he resembles the real one so little."

"And there is no reasonable Dumbledore?" There had to be one!

"Well yes," intervened Snape. "But they are among the Aurors and are busy enough as it is. You'll see. "

They walked on in silence and turned into the next corridor, where they were presented with an obstacle of quite a different nature: The entire corridor was full of students, Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix, who just stood there and did not move. Fudge slowed his pace, but the teachers squeezed through the crowd without paying any attention to the motionless statues.

"What's that?" Fudge shouted after them.

"These are characters from discontinued stories - at least that's what we assume," Snape replied.

"Or characters who were left in stories," added McGonagall. "Among the stories that Professor Snape has received there were some of these sorry efforts - with a request for inspiration. On occasion, we collect these figures and bring them here. Previously we have brought them into the great hall, but there's no space left now."

Fudge asked no more questions, but squeezed past a group of four boys who were crouching on the floor and studying a map. When he looked closer, he hesitated.

"Professors," he said. "This is James Potter!"

"We know," Snape etched. "We have him and his fine friends in very lively and multiple forms here, too. They are one of the reasons why the castle is so run down. The house-elves are so busy to remove their dirty tricks and the ones the multiplied Weasley twins produce that they have no time left for general cleaning." Fudge broke from the frozen four-pack and followed the two teachers.

"This means the ones who are still working," added McGonagall. "Since a horde of Hermione Grangers plus reinforcement has incited the house-elves to rebel, there are hardly any left."

"A house-elf rebellion?" Fudge was shocked. "But that must be reported to the Ministry!"

"How good that you have finally found something of utter importance," etched Snape.

"But it's of national importance" protested Fudge. "Just imagine if this movement spreads." Here he met the tired gazes of the two teachers, lowered his head ashamed and stumbled after them.

"What is a Lucifer-support group?" he asked as the silence became oppressive.

"This is a special kind of imitations. There are Harry Lucifers, Lucifers Malfoy Junior and Senior, Voldemort-Lucifers, Lucifers, and other -Fers; we even have a Lucifer Lucifer, and he doesn't like the idea that he is not the only one. They started a private war to determine who was the real Lucifer, until Poppy had the idea to form a support group. Demons seem to like talking about themselves. - they have lots of problems." McGonagall sighed once more.

"Now that we have lost Poppy, we can only hope that they won't get bored of hearing evil prophecies, otherwise the whole thing will start over again."

"Quiet," said Snape softly. They had almost reached the tower stairs, but even up here, they were not alone. In the corridor leading to the stairs, a plush pink little toad-like faced something hammered pamphlets onto the wall; the whole passage was already paved with paper. Even through the pictures the plump woman had driven nails, against what some residents protested cautiously. But most of the inhabitants seemed to have moved out of their frames already.

"Professor Umbridge," said Fudge, and was immediately seized and dragged around the corner.

"For heaven's sake, be quiet," whispered McGonagall panic-fueled. "She mustn't see us."

"But that's Dolores Umbridge," retorted Fudge angrily.

"Yes, one of three," hissed Snape. "They pave the whole castle with nonsensical decrees, and when you talk to them, they read every single one of them out loud. So shut up!"

Fudge nodded miserably and slipped after the two back into the corridor. In passing, he read one or the other decree, but growing disillusion made it seem wise to avoid any more glances at the nonsensical – things.

"Educational Decree No. 1738: Only Dolores Umbridge has the right to cough."

"Educational Decree No. 8426: It is forbidden to wear anything that is not pink."

"Educational Decree No. 9015: Kittens are cuuuuute!"

Fudge shuddered, slipped past Dolores Umbridge, who crouched on the floor and scribbled on a new decree, and escaped through the door into the astronomy tower.

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	3. Chapter 3: The End

**Chapter 3: The End**

A dull breeze welcomed them on the observation deck of the astronomy tower. Fudge climbed exhaustedly the last few steps, sat down on the top gasping for breath and wiped his sweaty face with a wet handkerchief. McGonagall and Snape, obviously in better shape, stood at the railing. The view from here was magnificent, overlooking the vast grounds of Hogwarts, even though the teachers were more focused on the lawn deep beneath them.

"Is this one of our Hermione Grangers?" asked McGonagall, transforming one of her hairpins with her wand in a pair of binoculars and glanced through them.

"Well?" asked Snape. McGonagall shook her head and handed him the binoculars.

"Horns," he muttered.

"Am I the only one, who has read "Hogwarts - A History" ?'" a voice shrieked from below.

"That's at least in character," Snape said dryly.

"But the pig's snout is exaggerated," said McGonagall.

"So true; buck teeth would be more appropriate."

"Severus, I must say!"

"The Aurors", gasped Fudge staggering to his feet.

"Right." McGonagall broke her indignant gaze off of Snape's grim smile and beckoned Fudge over.

"Over there they are." Fudge stared intently in the direction her arm indicated, and saw a large something wrapped in mist that probably was the Quidditch Stadium.

"Fog?" he asked confused.

"No," replied Snape. "Presumably one of the Dragons coughed and these are the remains."

"Dragons?"

"Yes, in the Forbidden Forest," McGonagall said impatiently. "But that's not important now."

Fudge gave her a bemused look, before he turned back to the stadium, where the stands slowly crystallized out of the clearing haze.

The first thing he saw was what one might expect of a Quidditch Stadium - people on broomsticks. Well, not a hundred of them like here, and Quidditch in general was not played with twenty to thirty Bludgers, as the multitude of falling broom riders did suggest, but by now it took far more to shock Fudge than that.

"My Aurors play Quidditch," he said fighting to control himself.

"Hardly," replied Snape.

Next second a huge green fireball exploded above the stadium, peppering the players in all directions, and when the blast hit the Astronomy Tower, Fudge, Snape and McGonagall were torn from their feet. Fudge turned over mid-air and slammed his face on the stone floor, McGonagall's glasses shattered, and Snape's head struck rudely against the railing on the other side of the tower.

"Sooner or later these damned Super Sues will pulverize the whole castle," he ground holding his forehead.

"Super Sues", muttered Fudge dazed and spat out a tooth. McGonagall fixed her glasses once again and put them back on her nose before she helped Fudge up, who was staring aghast at the tooth in his hand.

"Super-Sues are characters that are beautiful, incredibly strong and immortal," she panted. "Their hunger for admiration is at least as large. I do not know what the Muggles thought, who wrote something like them. "

"Obviously nothing," Snape moaned and buried his face in his hands. McGonagall nodded imperceptibly.

"In any case: when the Aurors arrived here, the Super-Sues lunged at them and challenged them to a duel. First, the Aurors thought of it as a joke, but when the Sues started a battle in the middle of the other pseudo students, the Aurors lured them to the Quidditch stadium. A largely realistic Voldemort joined the battle, useful Dumbledores and members of the Phoenix Order intervened, and what you see there is the result." She pointed wearily to the stadium, where the broken stands merged, and the first broom riders rose in the air again.

"And every time they repair the stadium before they go on fighting?" Fudge could not believe it.

"No." Snape finally got to his feet. "That's the doing of a super-fussy Hermione Granger. When she's not fixing the damage, she lectures the other through a megaphone or proclaims the school rules. I have no idea how she survives."

"Occasionally the Sues arrange Quidditch games against Hogwarts' teams or they host a strange Triwizard Tournament or all of it at once."

A column of fire burned dozens of broom riders.

"It seems they have borrowed a dragon from the Forbidden Forest," stated Snape coldly and added:

"You've forgotten to tell him about the strange grey wizard and his comrades."

"Oh, right. Recently figures have emerged, we can't quite place. One of them seems to be a dwarf; there are Muggles, too - and a big fire sweating thing. Because it reminded us of the Lucifers, we have put it into the Lucifer-support group. It is very talkative and has adapted well to the group."

"You think so?" etched Snape. "His lamentations have kept us awake for five nights now, and his flaming tears scorched half the east wing."

"And on whose side are these people?" asked Fudge, still holding his aching cheek.

"No idea. We don't go to the stadium any longer and those who are not over there ..." McGonagall sighed and gave Fudge another pair of binoculars she had just produced.

"See for yourself"

Snape directed the binoculars for Fudge onto a young man with pointed ears and long hair, who was just wrestling a kicking and grappling midget to the ground with the aid of Zabini and was just starting to fumble the tiny pants open. Fudge gasped, turned the binoculars quickly away, but in the midst of the ongoing orgy on the lawn, the threesome hardly stood out: scarcely anyone of the parties was still clothed, whole little groups sank in swamps, which rained from the sky, produced by clucking Weasley twins on broomsticks. And when a giant broke through the trees, cried boomingly "Hagaar" and trampled on willing pairs in droves, no one paid him any attention.

Fudge wanted to lower the binoculars already, when he spotted a strange figure with a triangular hat, scraped, tangled hair, knotted beard and dirty clothes, which stumbled burping and twitching across the meadow, a large bottle of rum in hands.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, against all reason. Snape seized the binoculars.

"Hm," he said, "that's new." Then he put the binoculars aside. "Whatever it has been, it has been settled."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Giant", Snape said laconically.

A firecracker exploded next to Fudge's left ear and hummed gleefully bawling in the direction of the greenhouses, which were barely visible in the luxuriantly sprawling plants.

"This is a disaster!" shouted Fudge half deaf and knocked against the ringing ear. McGonagall turned around.

"I see we understand each other," she stated a little louder than necessary. "Minister: Professor Snape and I cannot leave Hogwarts. We do not want to bring accidentally with us, whatever has triggered all this here."

"That much is to be expected of you," said Fudge, avoiding the two battle-weary teacher's stares.

"You however," said Snape quietly. "You must go." Fudge's face brightened and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, of course. I need to leave this place, don't I?"

Then he remembered where he was: On the top of the Astronomy tower in the centre of exuberant madness. These two did not think that he would voluntarily walk through the castle and across the meadows again? Never, that was asking far too much! He had seen more than he had ever wanted to see.

"Then that's decided," said Snape and pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket.

"Here, take this. It's the recipe for the potion. You have to make sure that everyone you send here has drunk it. It will not help us if half of the enforcement joins the lot below." Fudge did not move.

"Where did you get that anyway?" he asked suspiciously, as he watched McGonagall pull out a small clay pipe from her cloak, tucked it between her lips and produced a melodious whistle.

"Out of the Room of Requirements," Snape said shortly. "That's all it had to offer. Well, that and several barrels of fire whiskey, but that seemed to us, given the situation, scarcely helpful."

"But I won't stride again through the castle, not in a million years. I'm not crazy!" Snape smiled mockingly.

"You don't have to," said McGonagall, pointing to the forest. A huge eagle rose above the trees, quickly gained altitude and flew with mighty swoops of its wings towards the tower through the swarm of broom riders, winged creatures and fireworks. Fudge staggered backwards, as the majestic animal clenched its claws into the railing and stared spread winged with brown eyes down on them. McGonagall bowed slightly to the big bird and then turned to Fudge.

"He will bring you to the gates of Hogwarts. From there you should be able to disapperate. It would be very kind of you to give notice in Hogsmeade, that Hogwarts must be avoided in any case. Or no, better say nothing. We don't want to put stupid ideas in people's heads."

"He will bring me - definitely not!" shouted Fudge. "Where did you get that thing anyway?" Snape stepped up to him and held the parchment under Fudge's nose.

"He was just there one morning. Well, it's your choice: Either he takes you to the gates or you stay here. Do as you please."

Fudge weighed the claws, the sharp beak and the contemptible-looking eyes of the eagle against the atrocities on the lawn, swallowed, and finally tucked the recipe, along with his knocked out teeth in his cloak.

"Do not forget: Only to the gates. We need him here to keep the dragons at bay."

McGonagall touched the wings of the eagle; the animal answered with a surprisingly faint cawing, and then stared intently at Fudge.

"We are counting on you. Don't forsake us. "In her eyes stood such despair that Fudge could only nod. Next the eagle rose into the air, grabbed Fudge with his claws on the shoulder and carried him away over the grounds of Hogwarts like a big quivering mouse.

* * *

"Do you reckon he will do something?" asked McGonagall, while the eagle was shrinking on the horizon. Snape snorted.

"Who knows. He is a coward and only interested in his career."

"But he cannot ignore this, can he?" said McGonagall.

"Oh, how typical of a Gryffindor," Snape hissed. She smiled.

"Is not one of the maxims of Slytherin not to fight a hopeless battle?" Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I may be many things, but I am not a coward."

"I know," she said softly. "Thank you, Severus." They fell silent.

During their long walk evening had come, although the sun was still shining. Even the libertines in the meadow seemed exhausted, and the voice of the winged Voldemort, which called after Harry Raymondo Veritas still, had turned into a thin croak. Red clouds exploded over the stadium, the giant was kicking and raving in the middle of the swamps on the lawn, and from the lake sounded the horrible song of the merpeople. In times like these, this came as close to peaceful silence as possible.

"Professors," said a clear voice, and a young woman landed with her broom on the railing and jumped smartly on the platform.

"One of the Aurors has been seriously injured. Where's Mrs. Pomfrey?" McGonagall glanced sadly into the pretty green eyes.

"I'm sorry, Miss Evans, but I'm afraid we have lost Mrs. Pomfrey." Lily Evans' mouth twisted, and her forehead furrowed.

"This is not good," she murmured. "Well, could we not persuade this Granger-chick, excuse me, the stadium announcer to work her way through healing books in the library? She is quite hoarse as it is anyway."

"That's a good idea," nodded McGonagall. "What do you think, Severus?"

No response. Apprehensively she whirled around and in fact: Snape stood in front of her with silky curls, an impressive chest and an almost healthy complexion.

"Severus, no," whispered McGonagall, but he only had eyes for Lily Evans. He cleared his throat and licked his lips.

"Miss Evans," he said in a high comical tone. "You have allowed that one of the Aurors was injured? How disappointing. Detention."

"Oh, fantastic", beamed the girl hopped past McGonagall and disappeared inside the tower, followed by a very satisfied looking Snape.

"Snape", McGonagall whispered; then she was alone.

Her legs gave in and she slumped against the railing. From the corner of her eye she spotted a sailing ship that suddenly appeared on the lake and fired its cannons against the angry octopus. The beating of the tentacle triggered one high wave after the other that ran up the shore, and ripped the Tom Riddle-group along with the chained to it Ginny Weasley down into the depths.

McGonagall got up with difficulty, suppressed a sob, straightened, brushed the hopelessly tangled hair from her face and then climbed slowly down the stairs. Below she passed Dolores Umbridge, who, in the absence of a better audience, read decree after decree to a frightened house elf, crossed stray pets and granted the sad basilisk a look, whom it's Master seemed to have forbidden to kill and eat humans.

Unmoved, she registered that the previously solidified drifters zealously engaged in another discussion, squeezed her way past the other motionless figures, gave way to a horde of confused but battle-ready Dwarves, observed shortly a grey, emaciated creature that scuffled with Parvathi Patil over a ring, while a pair of stupid giggling midgets sat next to them smoking pipes.

On the fourth floor McGonagall encountered the Lucifer's support group, including the fire sweating creature.

"I am Lucifer!" shouted an only dimly recognizable twenty-something Harry Potter.

"No Sir, you are not," snapped another who reminded McGonagall remotely of a portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

"You're all fakes," roared a third and stamped with a clubfoot. "I am the only Lucifer!"

"Mueoh," uttered the huge fire thing, tore deep gouges in the ceiling with his horns and his flaming tears set fire to placards, posters and pictures along the walls.

McGonagall let the wildly disputant group pass, extinguished the fire with a water splash from her wand, pointed a Potter-Malfoy-coil to the Gryffindor tower, finally reached her office and closed the door behind her. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Somnambulistic she stumbled to her desk, dropped down in the chair and stared at a single pink envelope that lay on her desk. A heart gushed out of it.

"Hihihi!"

She grabbed the thing furiously, conjured fire in the fireplace and threw the letter into the flames. It exploded as it hihied once again, then silence fell - only in the distance a baby cried.

McGonagall slumped back in her chair, reached for the bottle of magic potion and took a swig before she put her glasses back on and fumbled for a blank parchment. She flattened the fine material, took a pen and wrote in her meticulous tight writing:

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Ministry of Magic...

...Given the circumstances I consider a twenty-percent salary increase to be appropriate…"

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